Chapter 12 Brynn #2
It takes a second to process what he's asking.
But the chance to smack that smirk off his face?
Sign me up. I pull my knife from under my belt—the cute one with the amethyst handle Esme got me last Solstice—and nick my fingertip.
The spell tumbles out in a whisper, familiar as my own name.
A delicious tingle zips from my throat down my arm, buzzing all the way to my bleeding finger.
The pulse kicks like a tiny heartbeat, light and perfect.
The droplet flies from my finger, and I watch it morph mid-air into something deadlier. A tiny crimson dart—like a ruby needle—catches the torchlight as it zips toward Chad.
“There you go,” he says, practically gloating.
Gods, that smirk. I twitch my hand just slightly, redirecting my aim. Screw his shoulder and the subclavian. The brachial artery runs right down his arm—way easier target.
“Think fast, asshole,” I hiss.
Chad's eyes widen as he realizes I've changed trajectory. He yanks his arm back just in time. “Whoa!”
“Oops. My bad. Are we done now?”
“You were going for my brachial artery.” He narrows his eyes at me.
“Maybe.”
A frown of assessment forms on his face. “Fairly smart… Ever used the Gaudian Pulse?”
“The Gaudian Pulse? Seriously? That's like bringing a bazooka to a knife fight,” I say.
“You do have grave dirt handy though. Right?” He raises an eyebrow like he's caught me unprepared.
I snort. “Duh. What kind of amateur do you think I am?” I fish out my monogrammed leather pouch—the one with the little skull charm Mom got me for Winter Solstice. “But that spell sucks the life out of me. Cast it once, I'm wrecked. Twice? I'm basically comatose.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning I'll be puking my guts out, barely able to stand, and basically a walking target for any clearblood with half a brain cell.”
Chad nods like the know-it-all he is. “So, last resort only. Got it.”
“Yeah, and it hurts like hell before you release it. Like your bones are being crushed from the inside.”
“You've really cast one before?”
“Once.” I make a face. “Wasn't a fan.”
His smile widens too much. “Who'd you try to hit?”
“Missed her by a couple inches,” I mutter, looking away.
“Your sister,” Chad cackles, and I seriously contemplate sending a blood dart straight through his smug eyeball. “They had you sparring before you went all bookworm, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, consider this your redemption arc. Cast a Gaudian Pulse. Now.”
My jaw drops. “Are you insane? You want to be paralyzed for fun?”
“Hit me, and we’ll cut tonight’s training short. You’ll be free to go. I won't chase you—can't chase you if I'm temporarily a human statue. It's perfect for escaping or delivering that final blow up close. Risky in combat, but effective if you don't screw it up.”
“You had me at 'free to go,'” I say, already sprinkling grave dirt into my palm. Anything to end a torture session.
“I can’t promise I’ll stay put this time,” Chad warns, eyes boring into me.
“I can’t promise I’ll miss, either.” I grit out the words, pressing the knife’s tip through the soil until it bites deep into my palm, drawing blood. I murmur the spell, the iron tang sharp in my nostrils.
The dirt and blood mingle instantly. A cold shiver snakes down my spine as the cemetery’s whispers swirl around me.
Darkbirch’s graveyard is a ghost buffet—death’s scent seeps from every tomb.
Even after Grandma Esther’s dragon debacle drained our reserves, I still conjure enough spiritual juice for a Pulse.
Luckily I don’t need much for it. One whiff of decay, and I’m set.
In my palm an orb forms, a spinning cluster of milky-white wisps under my concentrated gaze. It hums, draining energy from my bones. Pain flares. Beads of sweat bloom on my temples.
Chad shifts his stance. “The longer you hold it, the worse it hurts.”
“I know!” I snap.
“Release it now, or charge it until you collapse.”
Great. Option one: fire and maybe graze him. Option two: pack it so full of power it knocks him out for hours. Tempting, but my bones feel ready to crumble.
With a snarl, I unleash the Pulse. I glimpse Chad’s foot veer left—so I aim slightly that way. But at the last second he swaps direction. The orb slams into the far wall, fizzling out in a cloud of dust.
“Shoot!” I hiss.
Chad’s grin is pure moonlight. “Not bad, Brynn. But a true Gaudian hit leaves no clue.”
“You literally told me to summon one. We’re training.”
Chad's emerald eyes lock onto mine. “We're not training for theoretical situations. We're training for situations where focus is key.”
Damn those emerald eyes. Seriously, who gave this jerk permission to be that hot while he's torturing me?
One second I'm noticing how his stupid perfect jawline catches the torchlight, and the next—WHAM!
—Gaudian Pulse straight to the chest. It hits like a spiritual Mack truck, emptying my lungs in one go.
Death-cold seeps into my bones, then... nothing. Absolutely nothing. My worldview does a complete one-eighty as I topple backward like a darkblood bowling pin.
“There she blows,” Chad's laughter rings out as I hit the floor with a thud that I thankfully can't feel. But the panic? That I feel just fine. Paralyzed. Helpless. Great.
Chad's face appears above me, still chuckling. “Take it easy, it was a light one. You'll get back on your feet in a few minutes.”
I mentally compose a string of profanities that would make Grandma Esther wash my mouth out with grave dirt, but my lips won't budge. My heart's barely pumping, like it's taking a coffee break under the spell's pressure. Breathing becomes my whole universe. In. Out. Don't freak.
Seconds crawl by like they're wearing lead boots. All I can think about is how I'm going to punch that smirk off his face the second I can move again. Except I can't beat him physically. I need something else. Something unexpected.
“Deep breaths, Brynn. You've got this.” He's still laughing.
Asshole's having the time of his life while I'm lying here like a popsicle.
There’s something I’ve never shown Esme or Jax—a trick I mastered in secret. Might as well premiere it tonight, first chance I get. Chad won’t know what hit him. It’ll be perfect practice, and with any luck I’ll dish out the biggest slice of humble pie he’s ever swallowed.
“There you go,” he murmurs as my arms and legs tingle back to life. “Nice and easy.”
My words slur. “You bas—” I choke; need a second.
Chad’s grip tightens, and a different kind of shiver races down my spine.
Musk and orange blossoms swirl between us.
His emerald eyes gleam—but there’s a flicker of red buried in them so deep I almost dismiss it.
Not the tiny red specks common to darkbloods, but something stronger.
Deeper. A buried red stain beneath the flawless veneer of Darkbirch’s all-star darkblood soldier.
Maybe it’s an echo of the Gaudian Pulse. Maybe I cracked my head in the fall—no, my skull’s fine. My backside absorbed the blow; it’s sore but intact.
“Ready to proceed?” Chad’s voice drifts too close, his lips hovering.
Anger flares hot—bright and merciless. I shove him away with every ounce of newfound strength.
He laughs, low and pleased. “There she is!”
“You—” My tongue’s free again, but I’ve a spell to cast, not curses to fling.
He steps back to the center of the hall. “Alright, we’ve covered casting and surviving a Gaudian Pulse. Off the list. Next: close-combat drills. How’s your blade work?”
“Not great,” I mutter, hiding my clenched hands behind my back.
He doesn’t see me carve a fresh set of runes into my left palm. The steel bites in; pain blossoms, familiar and alive. I’ve done this before, but never under this scorching fury, never so determined to strike back. I’ve never meant real harm. Until now.
Chad points to a wall rack crammed with blades. “Good, then grab those long daggers. We'll start you off with those.”
“I need a sec,” I say, my palm already sliced open.
“Come on, I didn't hit you that hard.”
I clap my bloody hands together, and his face goes from cocky to oh-shit in two seconds flat. His forehead smooths out like someone ironed it.
“Brynn, what the actual hell?” he asks, voice tight. Gods, I'm loving this.
There it is again. That deep, red flash in his eyes. I notice it more easily now. Definitely some kind of protection spell. Makes sense. With his personality, half of Darkbirch probably wants to hex him into next Tuesday.
“See, this is why I kept saying combat training's a waste of time,” I tell him as the air between us ripples. The temperature plummets, and I feel Uncle Angus slipping through—like trying to pull a semi-truck through a keyhole, but he's coming.
Chad's mouth hangs open, eyes locked on the shimmering outline taking shape.
“Brynn, how did—”
“Meet Uncle Angus. Dad's side. Kicked the bucket fifty years ago.” I grin as the ghost solidifies. “Not as badass as Grandma Esther, but he'll knock your teeth in just fine.”
“You can summon spirits. You communed with an ancestor, like Esme,” Chad says, looking like I just grew a second head.
I cock my head, enjoying this way too much. “Try three ancestors.”
“What?!”
“Look, Esther's the GOAT when she's fully charged, no argument. But my trio's got skills.” And they weren’t part of Esther’s harebrained rescue plan. “And FYI: Uncle Angus here? Total beast on the battlefield.”
Uncle Angus materializes like someone cranked the ghost-dial to eleven: six-foot-four of pale rage in suspenders and rolled sleeves, fists like sledgehammers, jaw set beneath a wild beard.
His eyes burn silver in his weathered face, and though he's see-through, the whole hall vibrates.
I step right into him, letting his arctic energy flood my system.
My muscles seize up like I just drank a gallon of espresso mixed with lightning.
“Screw weapons,” I tell Chad, stalking toward him. The look on his face? Priceless.
“Brynn...”
“Surprise, Valgrave. I'm the weapon now.”
My fist connects with his perfect jaw, and he goes flying—actual flying—before crashing down with the most satisfying thud I've ever heard. Before he can even process what hit him, I'm already winding up to kick his smug face in.
But Mr. Top-of-the-Class recovers fast. He growls—actually growls—and throws his arms up. The spiritual energy blast knocks us both backward. If I'd landed that kick? Hello, broken ribs.
“This is dangerous territory, you're not ready to—”
“Ready to what? Stop letting you push me around? Hard pass!”
Every punch feels like it's coming from somewhere else, like Uncle Angus is puppeteering my limbs, feeding me decades of bar fight experience. He can't talk like Grandma Esther can, but damn if he isn't making his point through my knuckles.
Chad's done playing defense, though. He's not top dog for nothing. His hand snaps out like a viper.
“Brynn!” He locks onto my wrist, grip tight enough to bruise.
I can feel his blood—still wet from his palm—activating something. A counter-spell? Not today. I ram my knee into his gut, but he's already whispering something under his breath.
Uncle Angus is practically screaming warnings in my head now.
Our energies collide, twist together, spark like I've jammed a fork in an outlet. I can't tell where my power stops and Chad's begins. Light bursts between us, blinding-bright.
Then the bastard sweeps my legs out from under me.
We crash to the floor, a tangle of limbs and curses. I lose my grip on Uncle Angus just as Chad flips me, and suddenly I'm straddling him, wheezing like I've run a marathon while he's got my wrists locked in a death grip.
“Calm down,” he whispers.
“Screw you,” I spit back.
That damn smile again. Gods, I want to hex it off his face, but I'm stuck. His body's like granite underneath me, radiating heat that crawls up my thighs and settles somewhere I absolutely refuse to acknowledge.
There—that red spark in his eyes again.
“You're warded,” I blurt.
“Can't murder me today, Salem.” He yanks me down till our noses bump. “But nice party trick with the ghost.”
His breath fans across my mouth, minty and way too close. “What kind of protection spell is that? The red thing in your eyes,” I ask.
“My cologne?”
“Don't play dumb, Chad. The ward. I saw it flash.”
He blinks rapidly, like someone hit his reset button. “None of your business. So... second base?”
“Gross!” I scramble off him like he's contagious, but it's too late. My skin remembers exactly how he felt against me, all that stupid strength and heat. Meanwhile, I feel Uncle Angus fading. “Thanks for the assist, old man,” I mutter. “Next time we'll kick his ass properly.”
Chad stands, brushing himself off. “Anyone else know about your ghost brigade?”
“Nope. And I'd like to keep it that way.”
“Why?”
“Duh. So I can watch the look on people's faces when I pull it out of nowhere.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. You caught me with my pants down, I admit that.”
I tug my shirt down, trying to look less like I just got my ass handed to me. “Does this mean we're done for tonight? Because I'm totally calling a rain check.”
Before Chad can answer, the doors bang open and Corvin storms in, face like he just bit into a lemon. Chad and I snap to attention so fast I nearly pull something.
“Well, don't you two look cozy,” Corvin growls. “Playtime's over. We've got uninvited guests.”
Chad's whole body tenses. “Sir?”
“Heathborne delegation. White flag, full regalia, the whole diplomatic dog and pony show.”
My stomach drops to my toes. “Wait. Clearbloods? Here? At Darkbirch?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “That's like vampires showing up at a blood bank asking to use the bathroom.”
“Yes,” Corvin says, not even cracking a smile at my joke. “And I need you both. Now.”